


Into the Unknown

by TrashMonster



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, unexpected winterspider vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-31 06:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21441730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashMonster/pseuds/TrashMonster
Summary: Peter kisses Tony and Tony kisses him back. For a brief moment, all of Peter's happily ever afters are coming true.The next day, Tony's gone.He doesn't come back for a long time.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd write this ship but here we are.

Peter was seventeen when he finally kissed Tony Stark, but he’d been dreaming of kissing him for so much longer. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a hot flush of arousal when he’d arrived home to find Tony sitting beside May, pretending to eat her walnut loaf. Of course, the arousal had mostly been overcome by the deep-seated fear that he was about to be exposed as Spiderman and possibly arrested – or at least stopped from going out on his night-time patrols.

But he’d been wrong. It turned out he’d been wrong about a lot of things.

Like the look in Tony’s eyes when he considered Peter from across the workshop, a soft smile on his face. The gentle touches to Peter’s shoulder or lower back as Tony moved closer to admire his work. The way they always gravitated towards each other, whether it be at a stuffy gala, an Avengers meeting, or just across the space of the workshop floor. 

The late nights in the workshop were Peter’s favorite, their flirting undeniable, the warmth between them as Peter would eventually manoeuvre a reluctant Tony out of the lab and up to his penthouse, the New York city skyline glinting below them as Peter made thick greasy grilled cheeses, claiming food eaten between midnight and 6am never counts. The crinkle at the corner of Tony’s eyes as they ate together, sprawled on the couch, moving closer and closer, as if pulled in some orbit, one of them always finally, reluctantly, giving in to the pull of sleep. 

If Peter slept first, he’d wake in the guest room that had gradually become his. He’d be carefully tucked into the bed, and Tony would be gone, to meetings or to the workshop. On the nights when Tony slept first, it was usually with his head pillowed against Peter, the tension and constant low-lying anxiety finally leaching from his body, his muscles relaxing, his face becoming younger. Peter would watch him, unwilling to disturb this man who clearly needed so much more sleep than he let himself have. He’d fall asleep beside him, hoping against hope that Tony would still be there in the morning. 

He never was. And Peter was always back in his bedroom, somehow moved there without ever waking up. 

But, still. There was something between them. MJ would roll her eyes if she ever heard him describe it as ‘electricity’ but that’s what it felt like. 

And then, finally, he was done with dreaming of what could be. He was willing to make it happen. 

Which is why he’d leant over and kissed Tony, ruining everything. 

*******************************************************

It was another late night in the workshop, each tinkering with the schematics for their respective suits, Tony softly cursing Dum-E for his latest crime, before catching sight of Peter’s work. He’d murmured praise, like he always did, his eyes meeting Peter’s with that same look he always had. The one that spoke of longing and things unsaid. And Peter hated it. Hated that this brilliant man couldn’t see that he didn’t have to keep fighting, didn’t have to be the martyr when Peter so clearly wanted him too. 

Peter moved forward, clearly signalling his intentions. He saw the alarm in Tony’s eyes but didn’t stop. 

It was only supposed to be a press of his lips against Tony’s. 

But then Tony had kissed back. 

Peter thought he might pass out right there, amidst the machinery and engine oil and the debris of Dum-E’s latest firefighting attempts. 

Tony held him fast, supporting him, pressing their bodies close together as Peter’s brain reengaged with his knees and stopped him from swooning like some damsel in distress. 

The gentle kiss Peter had imagined was ashes in the distance, already consumed by the teeth Tony used to bite at Peter’s lip, the rough scratch of his facial hair, the burning desperation Peter could practically taste. Peter understood it. He was desperate too. He wanted to consume and be consumed, to let this brilliant, gorgeous man open him up and take what he wanted. He wanted to give Tony everything if it meant he got to feel this way forever. 

His hips bucked, chasing friction and pressure as he whined into Tony’s mouth, wanting more, wanting so, so much more, melting at the way Tony whispered his name between frantic kisses. 

Peter thought he might die as Tony’s fingers slipped beneath his t-shirt, feeling like molten brands against the pale stretch of skin. He was pretty sure he was moments from combusting as Tony took a firm grip of his hips, firm enough to bruise, and rucked up against him. 

_Fuck._

The brush of their cocks, even through layers of cotton and denim, was possibly one of the most euphoric moments of Peter’s life. He bucked up harder, sharp, uncontrolled bursts of lust running through him, chasing this high. 

His senses were going haywire. Every brush of fabric on skin, every sharp nip of Tony’s teeth before the brush of his gentle lips, the whispered words, the sheer heat between them, it was all too much. If he wasn’t careful he was going to finish soon, without even getting Tony’s shirt off. But then he’d feel the hard length of Tony against him and remember that there’d be time for that later. All that mattered now was that they didn’t stop moving, pushing against each other, helping bring each other off. 

Tony was getting close now. Peter could tell from the sloppy drag of his hips as he chased his orgasm, the jagged gasps for breath, the way his grip tightened around Peter’s body. 

“Fuck,” Peter gasped. “Please. Mr Stark, _Tony_, please. I’m so close.” 

The air left him in a sharp, painful burst as Tony pushed back hard and sudden against Peter. 

Peter’s back hit the lab table, dick still hard in his pants, skin rapidly cooling, eyes wide as they took in Tony’s desperate, wild gaze. He looked debauched and terrified. 

“Tony –” Peter tried to approach, desperate to pick up where they left off, desperate not to let this be what he thought it was -- 

“Fuck.” Tony stumbled away from Peter, backing into a wall and slumping to the floor. “No. No, we can’t. Kid. I can’t.” 

Peter came to a stop, his stomach leaden as he processed Tony’s words. He was smart. He’d known this might happen. But he’d researched and he’d prepared his facts. And then Tony had kissed him back and none of it had mattered anymore. If they could just get back to that, to the kissing, it would be okay. 

“Tony, we can. We _can_. This is okay. I’m 17. I’m legal. We can do this.”

Tony vehemently shook his head, looking like he wanted to disappear through the wall. 

“It doesn’t matter. Would it be okay if 13 was the age of consent? No. Because that’s still a kid. You’re still a kid, Peter.” 

“I’m not.”

“And I’m – I’m practically your boss. The ramifications of this. It’s not okay.”

“I thought about that,” Peter said, falling back on his prepared statements in an effort to try and stop the rising panic he could feel rising in his blood. “And the power imbalance just means I had to be the one to make the first move. If you’d kissed me first, then sure, maybe I’d only be kissing you back because you’re my mentor and maybe I’d think I had to. I mean, doubtful because you’re you and anyone would want to kiss you.” Tony grimaced. “But that’s not what happened. I kissed you. I wanted you. And you wanted me back. And besides. I’m Spiderman. You and I both know you couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. Not really.”

Tony didn’t look as reassured as Peter was hoping. In fact, he seemed frozen, stuck in a looping, growing panic. 

Slowly, Peter crossed the distance towards Tony and crouched down beside him. 

“Tony?” 

The silence dragged on. 

Although, of course, the workshop was never silent, a million little things whirring away at their assigned tasks, the hum of the AC, the occasional movement from Dum-E. Peter listened to every one of them, focusing in until he could trace the noise back to its source, carefully, painfully, counting down the moments until Tony finally responded. Preferably by kissing him. 

“Pete,” Tony said eventually, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think – I think I’m going to need some time.”

Peter nodded frantically. 

“Sure. Of course. Why wouldn’t you?” 

He clambered to his feet, his eyes never leaving Tony, not wanting to give up on the possibility that Tony might look at him. 

But Tony didn’t. He kept his gaze resolutely steered away. 

“We can talk in the morning, right?” 

“Yeah, kid. In the morning.”

Peter backed out of the lab, into the elevator, up to his room, fiercely holding onto the fact that this wasn’t over yet. They’d talk in the morning. Tony would understand. He just needed some time to readjust his thoughts and then they’d be okay. They’d go back to how they were, except maybe now when Peter thought about taking Tony’s hand or pressing a kiss to his skin he’d actually be able to. 

Everything would be fine. In the morning. 

*******************************************************

The next morning, Tony's gone. 

Peter doesn't see him again for four years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is coherent.

There was a part of Peter that already knew, as he left his bedroom, that Tony was gone. The penthouse was never this quiet, not usually. Tony knew his schedule well enough, knew when Peter was likely to stumble into the kitchen for breakfast and always made a point of being there. His music would often be playing, or he’d be putting up with Friday’s sass and threatening to upgrade her, or just fighting with the coffee machine. Something to let Peter know he was there. 

But now a heavy silence permeated the place, as if the penthouse had been abandoned for a long time. 

Peter tried to tamp down his rising panic as he gave a cursory search of rooms, all of them empty. The only place left to check was the lab, and a small voice at the back of his head still head out hope that Tony had pulled an all-nighter in his desperation to drown out what they’d done. He’d just forgotten, and Peter would go down there and remind him it was time to eat or sleep or at least step away from the lab for just a minute, and Tony would look up and call him kid, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

Slowly, he made his way down to the lab, every step feeling heavy, portentous. 

He already had his answer when he saw the lab was dark, but he stepped in anyway, the lights automatically flickering on. 

“Friday?” Peter’s voice cracked, trembling under the weight of his emotion.

“Yes, Peter?”

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Peter. I’m sorry.”

She even sounded sorry too. 

Peter didn’t need to ask if he was coming back. He knew he wasn’t.

Somehow, he was on the floor. He was shaking. He was pretty sure he was crying. A small, calm part of his mind took the time to recognize he was sitting exactly where Tony had last night, hunched over just like he had. 

It was highly likely he was having a panic attack, but he felt so far removed from it all. Yes, he was shaking. Yes, he was finding it difficult to breathe, tingles flooding up his arms and legs as tears fell down his face. But he couldn’t really feel it. Was this shock? Is this what shock felt like? 

Friday was talking to him. Something about fetching Natasha. 

“She doesn’t have lab access,” he managed, still gasping for breath as he forced each word out. 

“As of this last night, your well-being has become one of my top priorities. I am able to grant access when you are at risk and right now your vitals suggest you are at risk.”

That same, calm, rational part of his mind that knew he was having a panic attack in the same spot that he’d probably left Tony to have a panic attack was able to process this new information before Natasha arrived, her usual detached façade slipping at the sight of Peter.

Tony had reprogrammed Friday last night. His absence wasn’t a spur of the moment panic at the idea of seeing Peter in the morning, something he’d recover from and return in a few days. It was planned, methodical. Long term, if Friday’s new protocols were anything to go by. 

An ugly, painful sob ripped from his chest as Natasha scooped him into her arms.

Tony had left. He’d left and he wasn’t coming back because Peter had kissed him and ruined everything. 

“Pete? Are you hurt?” 

Yes, he was hurting, but not in the way Natasha meant. He wasn’t bleeding. His bones weren’t broken. But each sob sent a shot of pain across his chest, a burst of anxiety and sorrow and heartbreak that couldn’t be soothed. 

“Friday, what happened? What’s wrong with him?”

“I believe he is in distress at the boss’ absence. Symptoms point to an acute anxiety attack.” 

“Well then tell Tony to get the hell back here.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. He does not intend to return.”

“_What?_” Natasha’s tone immediately turned deadly, her grip reflexively tightening around Peter’s arm. “Why not? What did he do?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. May I suggest you focus on helping Peter? That is why I called for you.”

Peter was still lucid enough to know Natasha would have lightly maimed – if not murdered – Friday for speaking to her like that if Friday actually had a body. 

Unable to murder Friday, however, she turned to him, measuring out his breathing, hand on his cheat as a steady, calming pressure as they breathed in, held, and out. 

In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

She murmured soothing words in Russian – at least, Peter assumed they were soothing. They might have been threats against Friday for all his understanding of other languages. 

Eventually, he felt less like he was imminently about to die and the hand came off his chest and she moved to wipe the tears from his face and neck. 

“Are you okay?”

“His heart rate is still elevated but scans suggest he is returning to normal levels.”

Natasha pointedly ignored Friday. She’d been asking Peter, after all.

“Are you okay?”

Peter nodded miserably. 

“What happened with Stark?”

Just the mentioning of his name caused Peter to bite back a sob, tears welling in his eyes. He shook his head, desperate not to answer. 

“Okay. Okay, it doesn’t matter. We’re just – we’re just going to go back upstairs, okay?” 

Again, that small, calm part of his mind noticed that this was the most out of sorts he’d ever seen Natasha. She usually knew exactly what to do, and did it with confidence. Here they were both lost, neither knowing how best to proceed. 

Peter gave another wet nod, clambering stiffly to his feet. 

Last night he’d left this lab with such hope. Nervous hope, but hope nonetheless. 

Now, he didn’t know what he was doing. There was nothing left for him in the tower. Not without Tony. 

Everyone knew something had happened, but no one said anything to him about it. Instead, they gave him the kid glove treatment, tiptoeing around him like he was delicate, fragile glass that might break if looked at too long. He hated it. 

Natasha had threatened to kill Tony multiple times before Rhodey suggested she wasn’t being as helpful to Peter as she might think. Steve kept giving him meaningful pats on the shoulder. Clint would immediately avoid eye contact when Peter entered a room but for a time kept offering multiple pots of coffee. Pepper had given him a deeply sympathetic look once, and Peter had been avoiding her ever since. Tony had probably told her. They told each other everything, after all. He didn’t need her pity, her sad looks reinforcing what a stupid child he’d been for thinking Tony could ever reciprocate. 

Soon, he stopped coming around the Tower. 

He’d been an honorary Avenger for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to return to his roots, sticking to Queens and looking out for the little guy. It’d almost make him feel guilty if he wasn’t too busy wallowing in self-loathing to fit in any other emotion. 

When his eighteenth birthday swung around, he was confused to find Bucky waiting in his room as he stumbled back from patrol, his ribs bruised, a black eye quickly forming. For a heart-stopping moment, seeing Bucky waiting there reminded him of three years ago, when Mr Stark arrived and turned his world upside down. 

Bucky smiled grimly, as if reading his thoughts. 

“Sorry I’m not him.” 

“Who?” Peter regretted it as soon as he said it. Of course he knew who. He consumed his thoughts. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Bucky shrugged himself out of his jacket, stretching casually. “Sorry I let myself in. I’m assuming you still haven’t told your aunt about your extracurricular activities. Didn’t want her to worry.” 

Bucky waited expectantly, as if it was Peter’s turn to talk. Was it? He needed to get a grip. MJ and Ned had stuck by him, but he knew they were worried. May too. So much so that she’d even gently suggested he talk to someone, as if they could even afford that. 

But still. He needed to try. To at least put up a solid façade so he didn’t worry everyone around him. And there’s no time like the present. 

“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

To check up on him. Obviously. To see why he wasn’t coming to the tower. To babysit. He had to prove he was fine otherwise this would become routine. 

“You didn’t drop by just to say hello?” 

Bucky cracked a surprised smile at his dry tone. 

“You’re still in there. Good.”

Internally, Peter cheered through the semi-permanent haze in his mind. He’d made Bucky smile. He could do this. He could act like he was okay. 

“Well, if you’re not here for my charming demeanour, what do you want?”

“To say happy birthday.” 

“Lot of effort for something you could text.”

“I’m all about that personal touch, Parker, you know that.” 

Okay, Peter was pretty sure that was a smile on his face. Bucky was definitely not about the personal touch, unless you counted snapping necks. 

Bucky looked relieved, so he must be smiling. 

“Honestly, I thought you’d be more excited. You’re eighteen now. You can join the Avengers.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah.” 

“That’s what I’m here for. I’m the welcoming committee.”

“They sent you?” Peter didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but Bucky was hardly the most welcoming. 

Bucky flushed, turning away and Peter instantly felt shame pool in his belly. He’d watched Bucky’s transition into the 21st century; he knew how hard it was for him but that he was trying anyway. He didn’t need to make things harder for him. 

“I’m sorry, I just meant –”

“I know what you meant.” 

Peter shifted awkwardly as silence fell. Fuck. He was rusty. Really rusty. So self-absorbed by his own pain and self-loathing that he’d forgotten to be kind. 

He collapsed onto the bed beside Bucky, stretching out to stare at the water stains on his ceiling. Fuck. What was he becoming? 

“I’m sorry. I’m, kind of going through something. I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

“I know.” Bucky patted Peter’s leg reassuringly, leaving the heavy warmth of his hand on Peter’s thigh. “That’s why I volunteered to come.” Bucky slowly lay down beside Peter. “The others are well-meaning, but – they can be a lot. I almost murdered Steve when he first started coddling me, acting as if I might break at any second.”

“Tell me about it. I just – they were all – I couldn’t.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. “I get it. When you stopped coming by the tower, they wanted to stage an intervention but I argued we should give you some time.” 

Peter’s heart clenched in gratitude. Bucky had been looking out for him while he’d thrown this giant, stupid, heartbroken tantrum. 

Impulsively, he reached out and squeezed Bucky’s hand. He couldn’t find the words to say thank you, so this would have to be enough. 

“You haven’t talked about it, but I can hazard a guess to what happened. Why Stark’s gone. Why you’re tearing across Queens like you’re running out of time.” He turned, a finger reaching out to gently trace under Peter’s eye, the bruise now fully formed. “You gotta take better care of yourself, Pete.” 

Peter turned, the intimacy startling and wholly wrong. It should be Tony here, checking up on him, telling him to go easy on himself. But no, Tony had fled, probably to Malibu. He was likely sunning himself on a beach right now, watching the waves roll in and fucking anything that moved while Peter let himself get beat to a pulp some nights just to feel something, anything, only to heal and do it all over again. 

Peter sat up quickly, breaking the quiet between them. _Holy shit._

“This is fucked up.” 

Bucky slowly returned to sitting, watching Peter carefully.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

Peter grinned, feral, with too much teeth, anger at himself for letting this last so long, for worrying his friends and family flowing through him. And anger at Tony too, for handling it how he had. 

“I’m gonna stop wallowing.” Bucky nodded. “Pick myself up.” Another nod. “And become an Avenger.” 

Bucky grinned. 

“Hell yeah you are.” He pulled Peter into a hug, grinning widely. He started laughing. “Holy shit. Clint’s never gonna believe I talked you into this.”

“Clint should have more faith in you,” Peter said, hugging Bucky tightly back, feeling his laughter reverberate through his body. “Anyway, you didn’t talk me into anything. You gave me the space to work it out for myself.”

Bucky flushed again, awkward in the face of praise. 

“Thanks, Pete.” 

“No. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not tagging winterspider because nothing happens between them (sorry if that's your thing!). No idea where that vibe came from. Just writing from my own friendly experiences and noticing how shippy it seems when put in a fic. 
> 
> Hope that doesn't disappoint anyone!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the type to beg for comments but also I feel super nervous about posting in a new fandom so IF you felt like leaving a comment with thoughts then that would be kinda cool. No pressure though!


End file.
